


Black Stones

by trr_rr



Category: Rhett & Link, Seaborne & Roach
Genre: Blue Velvet references, Coercion, Disturbing Themes, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Fourth Wall, M/M, Mild Gore, Mystery, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Romance, Surreal, Twin Peaks References, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-11-15 02:19:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18064691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trr_rr/pseuds/trr_rr
Summary: A routine domestic case develops into something deeper when Seaborne & Roach make a disturbing discovery. The two grow closer as they work to solve a dark mystery in a quiet corner of suburbia.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Had so much fun writing my other little Roach fic that I wanted to have a go at a longer story.  
> Tags will change as the story develops. I chose to use no warnings because, you know, mystery stuff but please be aware there will be some disturbing themes as the story goes on.

 

“Wake up.”

  
  


Roach had fallen asleep with the window cracked to let the air in to clear the steamy insides of the car. Morning light scorched his eyes. He pushed his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose.

  
  


“Fell asleep, son of a.” Roach only heard a pinch of Seaborne's curses.

  
  


The passenger side door opened and Seaborne slouched into the chair with two fresh coffees and a pastry.

  
  


“How do you expect Mrs Maria to pay our fee when you can't even stay awake for ten hours, Roach?”

  
  


“I didn't mean to. And look, nothing's changed. No spilled over trash.” Roach coughed and straightened his stiff back. His green leather jacket squeaked. His voice scratched up through his throat. “It's fine. Nothing exciting happens on these overnights anyway, you know that. Spent a while flashing my little flashlight into my eyes to keep me awake.”

  
  


Roach's eyes drew to Seaborne's mouth as he took a bite from his one dollar danish and passed the black coffee over with a napkin wrapped around the cup.

  
  


“This is a quiet neighborhood. You didn't get me a danish?

  
  


“No, I didn't. You know you should keep the doors locked when you're in here overnight.”

  
  


“Don't worry about me, Sea.”

  
  


“All I do is worry about you, Roach.”

  
  


“But not my stomach, huh.” Roach smiled.

  
  


Not long into their shared quiet and coffees, Seaborne sat to attention.

  
  


“Did you see anyone out in the driveway last night?”

  
  


Roach had his key ring in his hand. He clicked the tiny plastic button on the miniature flashlight, it refracted off his sunglasses to splash around the car.

  
  


“Not a soul. Well, the daughter left early evening and came back a few hours later. That's all. She looked fine. Went straight into the house.”

  
  


“She didn't bring the trash out?” Seaborne tossed his half eaten danish onto the dashboard.

  
  


“Nope. Nothing.”

  
  


“Then why have the cans moved?”

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“The cans are set up different, Roach. They didn't look like that when I left last night.”

  
  


They got out of the car, crossed the road and up the drive to the trash cans and the three of them were stood in a triangular formation. They look undamaged.

  
  


Seaborne looked back at Roach and lifted the lid on the middle can. They both look down into the piled up rotted domestic waste.

  
  


The mess inside was covered in ants. They tiptoed over the mulch and grime of sun ripened trash and there, on top of the pile, was a bloodied, severed ear.

  
  


A bloody, greenish human ear.

  
  


Seaborne produced a black pen from his jacket pocket and lifted the thing. It still had a black stone earring in the lobe and Roach covered his mouth with his hand. He walked away and looked back at the car.

  
  


“Is that an ear?!” Roach bellowed into the lonely treeline that edged the the opposite side of the street. “Oh, my God.”

  
  


“Yes, Roach, it would appear so.” Seaborne was fascinated. There was a light in his eyes. A hard excitement in the way he held himself, ear on pen held aloft to absorb the visual.

  
  


“We, gosh, man, we need to call the cops. This is more than vandals and raccoons knocking over this nice ladies trash. What the hell, Sea. I fell asleep.” Roach had his hands in his hair and he paced. “I fell asleep with my door unlocked. Jesus Christ.”

  
  


“Calm down.”

  
  


“I feel sick to my stomach. I might puke.” Roach bent and held himself up with his hands on his thighs.

  
  


“You can have the second half of my danish. Breakfast settles the stomach.”

  
  


“How can you think about food when you're, gosh why are you still holding it up like that?”

  
  


Roach came back to Seaborne's side. His face was pale and twisted. Seaborne's eyes were clear as the morning breeze.

  
  


“You still have that napkin?”

  
  


He looked at Seaborne and then looked again. He sighed and handed the folded tissue over. Seaborne nestled the ear inside the napkin and folded it.

  
  


“I think I better stay with you tonight.”

  
  


And that was how Seaborne and Roach came to sit in their car all day and then late into the evening.

  
  


“Now, are you gonna tell me why we're still here, instead of the police station?”

  
  


Seaborne held his fingers up to his own lips. Roach could see the images flash behind his eyes as he conjured the best way to explain himself.

  
  


“There are opportunities in life, for gaining knowledge and experience. Sometimes, it's necessary to take a risk and I got to thinking I bet someone could learn a lot by keeping quiet. By blending into the crowd. A lot more than flashing lights and men in uniform could ever unearth running around, digging in all the wrong places in the light of day. You know, hide and observe.”

  
  


“Are you crazy? Sea, we're possibly dealing with a murder, here. This is giving me the creeps.”

  
  


“Just give me a chance, okay?”

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

“Nothing.” Roach mumbled. He sipped from his coffee cup.

  
  


A few cars passed by further up the road into a block they had not been down. Roach watched Seaborne's eyes sharpen with each vehicle that passed them by.

  
  


“Let's follow.” Seaborne nodded to the block ahead.

  
  


They drove up slow and easy to a house with several cars outside. The house was lit by what looked like a party. A casual party with more than a few people in attendance. They all got out of their cars and wandered onto the property. They greeted each other as they entered.

  
  


It was a modern style house. Almost a pyramid. It was flat roofs and big windows under concrete pillars. There were classic cars parked outside, jazz music came from inside. An older gentlemen accompanied by two pretty young women entered the property.

  
  


It was entirely out of place in a quiet suburb on the edge of town.

  
  


Seaborne and Roach gave each other a look.

  
  


The house was separated from the homes around it by a space of green garden, sheltered and offered privacy by tall surrounding trees and tall brick walls. Dark now in the evening twilight, stars above flickered into view.

  
  


Seaborne exited the car. Roach followed and looked up at the sky. He delved his hands into his jean pockets. He did not attend many parties, his height made him stick out when all he wanted was to fade into the crowd. Seaborne was great at that sort of thing.

  
  


On the driveway, they both passed by the tall gates. They were both welcomed in the door, they did not have to knock. Once they were inside the lobby, two pretty young women in red and gold server outfits waved them through. Red heels, short skirts, tan tights and long blond hair under little red pillbox hats. They both wore red leather gloves.

  
  


A small, old fashioned marquee sign on the wall read “Open house. No invite required on Thursday.”

  
  


Roach remembered Vegas.

  
  


“Welcome to the Lodge, gentlemen. Can we take your coats?” The girls said in proud, perfect unison.

  
  


“No.” Seaborne replied.

  
  


“Uh, no, sorry ladies, we keep our smokes in the coats.” Roach said with an apologetic grin.

  
  


The two girls stood back at their places by the door and giggled at the two of them, stood in the lobby, confused.

  
  


They both continued down the hall.

  
  


Seaborne's shoes made no sound against the brutal black and red zigzag patterned carpet.

  
  


Roach was caught by the sight of a white marble lady, who stood at one end of the hall. Her arms had long since crumbled away or perhaps that was the artist's intent, to mimic the old Greek statues that were half destroyed by time. Her chest was pretty nice to look at, her belly looked soft. The red drapes that hung beside her sparked something in Roach's mind and he was not sure on the intention of placing the lady there.

  
  


“Roach.” Seaborne whispered.

  
  


They passed through a doorway and came upon the main reception room.

  
  


They were shocked to find the place not set out like a home, as many of the other buildings in the quiet suburb were but as a place of entertainment and recreation.

  
  


There was a small stage, upon which a dark man in muted colors played the saxophone. Behind him, another man sat low behind a snare drum and a symbol, which he stroked and struck with a pair of drum bushes.

  
  


Neon red lamps lit the room. Frosty red sconces glowed from the walls. Men and women chattered and drank all around them. Some sat at tables in intimate conversation. Some were at the small bar, they ordered drinks and touched each other.

  
  


“This is pretty cool.”

  
  


Seaborne looked up at Roach, who wore his sunglasses inside, at night.

  
  


“Can I buy you a drink?” Roach asked. He tucked his leather jacket around himself and played at appearing casual in his request.

  
  


“No, thank you. Get yourself something. I'll see if I can't start up some conversation, see what's going on.”

  
  


Roach drifted to the bar and enjoyed the music woven air. He ordered a scotch with ice and watched the room. He could not make out any faces, say for Seaborne's but then again, Seaborne's was often the only face he could see.

  
  


Some couples held hands across tables. Others shared kisses. So many older men and young blond women were settled around the room. Roach tried not to let his eyes settle on any one scene. That would be intrusive and inappropriate.

  
  


He watched and sipped his drink as Seaborne turned more fully into the space. Roach followed his gaze and there, in a booth by herself, lit with a single red bulb that hung shadeless above her, sat a young pale woman. Long blond hair. Black stone earrings.

  
  


Her black dress plunged over her collar bones to show the delicate column of her throat and her breast bone beneath. Her body was slender but what caught Roach's attention was the white of her eyes, like translucent alabaster. Her lips were red and her eye shadow was an ink black smudge.

  
  


Roach feigned interest in the napkins and cocktail sticks on the bar as his sunshade eyes followed Seaborne's movement.

  
  


He approached the booth and the young woman looked up to meet him. She simply smiled.

  
  


It was as though there was no one else in the room but they two. The bodies around them vanished.

  
  


The music changed. The saxophone player took a break. The man at the drums stroked his snare.

  
  


The two at the booth spoke. Roach saw them exchange words in the polite manner he came to expect from Seaborne. She leaned in close, Roach watched intently.

  
  


She rose from her seat but Seaborne stayed seated. She rounded the table, placed her hand against Seaborne's chest and placed a red lipstick kiss against his cheek.

  
  


Then she was gone. Her slender body moved through the room as though it cut the thick air.

  
  


The room around them reappeared and the music resumed as before.

  
  


Roach sat at the booth in the seat across from Seaborne and put down his drink.

  
  


“Any luck?” Roach chewed a cocktail stick. He let it hang from his mouth.

  
  


Seaborne's eyes were unfocused. He delved his fingers into his jacket breast pocket and pulled out a black and red business card.

  
  


**The Lodge**

  
  


Roach suggested they hang around longer but Seaborne had accused him of wanting to stay only to stare at young women.

  
  


“I wonder if they have an alcohol license.”

  
  


“You only need a hunting lodge license to serve alcohol on private premises in this state.”

  
  


“Hm. Did you go to college, Sea?”

  
  


“No.”

  
  


“Funny.”

  
  


“How?”

  
  


“You're just real smart, that's all.”

  
  


They sat in the car and watched a few people out front of the house. Some smoked and talked. Some couples embraced in the dark.

  
  


“I need a shower.” Roach sniffed under his arms inside his leather jacket.

  
  


“You don't smell bad. But yes, we could both use some rest. Drop me off at home. Let's freshen up and come back in the morning.”

  
  


“Are we heading to the station first? That things gonna go bad and taint before they get the chance to dust for prints.” Roach looked at the folded damp napkin on the dashboard. Seaborne's eyes were fixed on The Lodge.

  
  


“We're not going to the station.”

  
  


There was a pause. Roach nodded, looked out the window and spoke again.

  
  


“What are you thinking, Sea?”

  
  


“I' don't know, yet. But one thing I know for sure. There's a lady in this neighborhood missing one black stone earring.”

  
  


 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Music.

  
  


There was music in the air. Seaborne sat in the car, driver's side. Roach was not with him.

  
  


The car was parked inside the reception room of The Lodge. The black and red zigzag floor.

  
  


Seaborne was troubled. He turned to look out the car window and there, in a black leather chair sat the woman from the party. Two of her.

  
  


Their long blond hair was beautiful. It trailed down her shoulder to rest just above her blazer pocket.

  
  


She had both of her ears. She was unharmed. She wore black stone earrings.

  
  


The young women turned to one another and as Seaborne watched, one of the young women faded away.

  
  


There was a closet. In the closet was Roach. His unshaded eyes watched the room through the slats. He watched the white marble lady who stood behind the young woman who sat in the black leather chair on the red and black zigzag carpet.

  
  


“Did you lose something?” Seaborne asked out the car window to the young woman.

  
  


Heavy red curtains waved and billowed.

  
  


“Not yet.”

  
  


A flashlight swept over the car and he was sat in a chair across from her.

  
  


“She is me. They are me. My father loves me. They don't leave.”

  
  


The eyes in the closet flickered and roved behind the slats. There was the sound of a shattered vase.

  
  


She turned her head to see the closet.

  
  


She turned back and she was by Seaborne's side. He was fixed to the chair.

  
  


The light flashed once more, she bent to whisper in his ear and the closet door was opened.

  
  


“I had a strange dream.” Said Roach.

  
  


“I also had a strange dream.” Said Seaborne. “You go first.”

  
  


Roach's fear played upon his face. He shifted in the car seat, his jeans squeaked against the blue-ish leather. The trees that lined the neighborhood stood old and feather-like against the afternoon sky.

  
  


“There's us. And we're together. Like this. But it's us, and it's not us. There's two of us, in this car, just like this, but were different. Every time we're different. My beard isn't as full as it is now and you, you have a mustache. Not clean shaven like now. And we do cases. And it's always day time. And, there are cameras. One is, pointed at you and the other is on my side, in the back of the car.”

  
  


“Cameras?” Seaborne asked.

  
  


“Yeah. And there are people watching us. And our lives are just that little piece of time when we're in the car on a case. And you get short with me, a lot. More than usual.” Roach smirked but his humor was false. “And, there's this other version of us. An older version of us. You cut your hair. Wore glasses.”

  
  


Seaborne nodded and let Roach think his thoughts.

  
  


“That's it. That's all I remember. About it.”

  
  


“It scared you?”

  
  


“Yeah. I guess it did. I was afraid.”

  
  


“The idea that we're nothing more than puppets or characters, being watched, frightens you.”

  
  


“The idea that so many people could know what's going on inside my head. That they could see into this car, this afternoon and hear me speaking to you, the way I'm speaking, right now. To read the words I'm saying and the feelings I'm having. That they could be sitting somewhere, a place I'll never get to, watching us. Right now. That scares the hell out of me.”

  
  


“What scares you about it?”

  
  


“My thoughts are mine. I don't want anyone knowing how I think or feel. Anyone could read what I'm saying and know my secrets. Not that, you know, I have any. It scares me. I'm scared, right now, sitting here, with you, talking about it.”

  
  


“No one's watching us. I'm here.” Seaborne reached out and touched Roach on the shoulder. Roach felt comforted by Seaborne's touch, like he always did. If only he would do that more often, Roach might not be so constantly afraid that his secrets would spill for everyone to see. “No one's listening in on us. It's just me and you. No one knows where we are or what we think or say. And you know you can talk to me, don't you? Tell me anything that's on your mind, any time.”

  
  


“You're right.” He nodded and swallowed. He put his hand over Seaborne's where it had stayed on his shoulder. “This is real. We're real. It's just us. Thanks, Sea.”

  
  


Seaborne smiled and drew his hand away.

  
  


“What about you? You had a dream too?”

  
  


“Yeah. I did.”

  
  


“What was it about? Was it a nightmare?”

  
  


“I don't know. I can't remember.”

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

“Just let me do the talking.”

  
  


“Same as usual then, huh?”

  
  


The detectives walked up the driveway to Mrs Maria's front door. The trash cans were lined up neat against the side of the house. Roach knocked his knuckles on the door and they stood shoulder to shoulder on the porch to await an answer.

  
  


“Uh, Sea. There's been something I've been meaning to ask you. Or, well, tell you really. There's never seemed like a right time but I think I don't wanna wait any longer.”

  
  


Seaborne looked up and met Roach's eyes behind his sunglasses.

  
  


“Well, we've been doing this for a while now. Investigations and such and I, I've really come to enjoy working with you.”

  
  


A dark haired young woman with big brown eyes opened the door.

  
  


“Good afternoon, miss, is Mrs Maria home?”

  
  


“No. My mom's at work. Can I help you? I'm Miss Maria.”

  
  


“Oh, my name is Seaborne, this is Roach.” Roach nodded with his hands in his jean pockets. “We are the men your mother hired to watch the trash.” Seaborne pointed to the trash cans and the girl opened the door.

  
  


“Oh, come on in. Mother said she had it covered but she didn't say anyone would be visiting today. I'm sorry. Can't be too careful letting strangers into the house.”

  
  


“Well, maybe if all young women took that advice there would be fewer crimes in this town. What do you think, Roach?”

  
  


“Couldn't tell you, Sea.”

  
  


They were led through the house, into the sitting room. A typically decorated space, fitted with all the trappings of a suburban home. Television in the corner. A clock above the fireplace. An orange cat on the windowsill.

  
  


Roach gave the creature a suspicious look through his shades.

  
  


“Can I offer you a drink? Lemonade or coffee?”

  
  


“Coffee would be wonderful, thank you. We both take it black.”

  
  


Miss Maria brought through three dark coffee mugs and placed them all on the table. Seaborne and Roach sat side by side on the small floral loveseat . Their long legs were drawn together as guests do in a stranger's home. Their bodies touched all the way down from shoulder to ankle. Their arms were tucked into their bodies so as not to impose in the young woman's home.

  
  


Miss Maria sat down in the armchair across from them. She gave Roach a shy smile and a flash of her dark eyes. Roach cleared his throat and shifted against his partner.

  
  


“Well, Miss Maria, we would like to discuss the outcome of our investigation with Mrs Maria.” Seaborne started.

  
  


“Oh, that's fine, you can tell me, it's just trash. I can let my mom know when she comes in from work.”

  
  


“Well, as your mother is not home, we have a development on why your trash keeps moving. It's Raccoons.”

  
  


Roach's posture tightened next to Seaborne.

  
  


“Raccoons? That's it?”

  
  


“Yes. Raccoons have been nightly tipping over your trash. We stayed out overnight to come to this conclusion and we would like to settle our fee. We quoted the job at $120. That, you see Miss Maria, is partly why we wanted to speak with your mother.”

  
  


“Oh. Oh, Mr Seaborne that is no bother. We both pay into the family home, what with my father out of the picture. I pay my way and help my mother with little things around the house. Let me just settle this for both of us.”

  
  


Miss Maria stood and reached for the mantle. She turned to open an ornate red and black music box. She pulled out several bills. She tucked her dark curly hair behind her ear.

  
  


Roach grabbed at Seaborne's thigh and quickly let go.

  
  


“Miss Maria. Those are a very distinct pair of earrings. Might I ask, where did you get those? I am, I have a little lady back home and I've been looking for a gift, something special for our anniversary.”

  
  


“Oh, these? Well, they were a gift. From a friend. A girl I know.”

  
  


“You have friends in the neighborhood? We haven't seen many young women around this part of town.”

  
  


“Oh, well, you know the house around the corner? The Lodge, we all call it. Well, it's run like a clubhouse at night. It draws in a lot of business. Lots of the girls from around town get hired as wait staff. There's a girl there.” Miss Maria tucked her hair behind her ears again. “Stevie. She's so cool. Her father runs the Lodge, she doesn't often stay there, though. You can understand, with all that music and laughter at night. I think it was really hard for her to grow up around all that. ”

  
  


“Oh, yes, we've been there for a drink. Mr Roach and myself had quite a nice time.”

  
  


“Well, my mom doesn't like me going there. Says all the drink and older men are a bad influence but anyway, Stevie gave me these earrings. I wanted to get a job at the Lodge but for some reason, Mr LeVay wouldn't hire me. That's her father. Just as well really, Stevie is leaving soon. She graduates in a few months and she said she plans to go to a college far, far away from here. I really want to go to college as well, just need to graduate first.”

  
  


Miss Maria held the money in her hand . She was lost in thought for a while.

  
  


“So, I'm sorry, I don't know where the earrings came from.” She reached up to touch one ear.

  
  


“Well, that's fine. I'll just have to think of something else for a gift. This Stevie sounds like a very smart young woman. As do you, Miss Maria.”

  
  


She smiled and nodded. She handed over the money which Seaborne tucked away into his coat.

  
  


They shook hands, gave their regards to pass on to Mrs Maria. They did not finish their coffees and Roach followed Seaborne out the door.

  
  


They crossed the street, back to the car and Seaborne tugged at the passenger side handle. The door would not open.

  
  


“Roach?”

  
  


“A little lady?”

  
  


“Oh. You like my technique? A young girl locked up in the house like that, as soon as you give the slightest indication you're interested in what they have to say, they spill their guts.”

  
  


“And, what, you think she believed you? That you wanted to buy jewelry for your lady friend?”

  
  


Seaborne frowned.

  
  


“Why not? I'm a young man. I've got a lot to offer.”

  
  


“Yeah, if you find any women who are interested in a man who spends the majority of his time sat in a car on the other side of town with his best friend, let me know.”

  
  


Roach unlocked the car and they both ducked inside.

  
  


“Who said we were best friends, anyway? I always considered you more of a business partner.”

  
  


Roach held a hand to his chest utterly, horribly, affronted.

  
  


“Sea, I never knew you could be so cruel.”

  
  


Seaborne chuckled and tidied the way his coat settled around him in the passenger seat.

  
  


Roach hesitated. He looked out the windscreen and then back to Seaborne.

  
  


“You know, Sea, the whole time I've known you, you never did mention any girlfriend.”

  
  


“Really?”

  
  


“Really.”

  
  


“Interesting.”

  
  


 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Sat outside The Lodge, in the car, Seaborne and Roach drank their afternoon coffee in silence.

The gates to the driveway were open. The tall trees bent to the will of the wind.

“Was pretty cool at the party, huh?”

“It felt intimate.” Seaborne replied. He looked down into his coffee cup.

“Intimate? Oh, you mean the girl, Stevie? Yeah, she seemed odd.”

“We're all odd.”

“Oh, yeah? You and her hardly exchanged two words with each other. You think you got a good read on her?”

“Mmh.”

“She kissed you on the cheek, man. Seems odd to me.”

Seaborne smirked.

“What did you talk with her about?”

“She said she'd never seen me there before. Said I probably wouldn't fit in. That she liked that about me.”

Roach's eyes sharpened behind his shades.

“She was pretty. Long hair and a dress like that. I'd have also liked to talk to her for a while.”

“I don't think she'd be interested.”

“Hey, she'd be plenty interested if I turned on the charm.”

Seaborne looked at him.

“You don't think I'm charming?”

“I think your plenty charming, when you want to be.”

Roach let his gaze settle on Seaborne dark blue eyes. He held focus through his shades.

“Let's go in.” Seaborne said.

Roach knocked on the door. They stood shoulder to shoulder.

“Oh, sorry, Roach. Um, before, outside Mrs Maria's. You said there was something you wanted to tell me? Something about work?”

Roach took a deep breath. He laid his palm on Seaborne's coat. He felt the soft woolen weave of the fabric and the shape of Seaborne's shoulder beneath.

The door opened and a pale young woman with long blond hair in a long red dress answered the door.

“Oh. It's you.” Her voice was warm and soft.She had a rasp to her voice, the type that could not be cleared by just a good night's sleep. “Well. You should come in.”

“Thank you.” Seaborne held his coat close and walked in.

Roach followed.

Stevie LeVay was beautiful. She walked in a way that let her own everything around her, yet she walked on ice. Her feet were bare across the carpet.

They were shown to a side room, past the lobby and past the doorway to the hall. They were taken into what Roach thought might be a study, if it had had any books or book shelves.

The room was dark and felt, for lack of a better word, sensual.

Dark green tiles were the floor. Two sofas, stiff and deep green sat on both sides of a glass coffee table. On the table there was an ashtray and a heavy gold table lighter. Behind the two sofas stood tall industrial lamps.

Stevie curled her legs beneath herself, flattened out her form fitting dress and looked to them in the lamp light.

“Please, gentlemen, sit down.”

Seaborne perched on the sofa across from Stevie and Roach joined him. Again, they sat polite, knees together, hands in their laps.

Stevie was all but laying in her chair, like a queen. Her position showed off her body but not in a way that stole their attention. Her eyes were a point from which they could not look away.

“So. What do you want?”

“Stevie, is it?”

“Yes, it's Stevie. Or Miss LeVay. And I'm afraid I never managed to catch your name the other night, Mr?”

“Mr Seaborne. And this is my partner, Mr Roach.”

“Partner?”

“We're investigators.” Roach helped.

Seaborne sighed.

“For the Newspaper?”

“No, not for the newspaper and not for the police, either.” Seaborne elbowed roach in the side. Roach held in a grunt. “We deal with domestic concerns.”

“Mmh. Sounds juicy.”

Seaborne smiled.

“Miss LaVey, we have a few questions, for our own personal interests, pertaining to a discovery during an unrelated local case.”

She watched him.

“And, if you don't mind, my first question is about the party you spoke of. Do you often attend those?”

“No. I try not to be around when Daddy has his parties. I do not wander the house. I, most of the time, stay in my bedroom. I leave at night, to stay with girlfriends or study at the College library, it stays open all night.”

“Thank you.” Seaborne smiled. “And my second question, Miss LeVay, is who gave you those earrings?”

Her face darkened and became sharp. A light shone across her from the small window that looked out over the back yard.

“No one gave them to me. I bought them for myself.”

“We saw, and I think Mr Roach will back me up here, a lot of young women at the party with those very same earrings the night we stopped by.”

“Yes. You would have.” Stevie took a deep breath and played with the fold of her dress around her ankles. “My father, Mr LeVay, very much likes me to have nice things. I bought these earrings for myself when I turned eighteen years old, a gift to myself. That was the same day I announced to Daddy that I would be going to college. That I would be leaving this house and leaving him. Soon after, my father began purchasing multiple pairs in the same style to give to the girls he hires to serve at his parties.”

“I see.”

“You noticed, did you not, Mr Seaborne, that they were all pale, blond girls, around my age.”

Her eyes slid across the room and met icy with his own.

“I did notice that.”

“I knew you would have. That's why I spoke to you. I wanted to know why you had come. You do not seem like one of Daddy's regulars. Him, maybe.”

“Well, I like to drink.” Roach scoffed. “And I liked the music.”

She smirked at him and turned her eyes back to Seaborne.

“I think I understand.” Seaborne was captivated. “I think, maybe.” Seaborne kept his voice low and his eyes from Roach. “Maybe you and I, have much in common?”

“Similar but in no way the same. And Daddy doesn't know. And the parties don't end.”

“We both wish you every success at your upcoming graduation, Miss LeVay.”

“Is that it, then? Or do you have any other passing whims you wish to satisfy?”

Roach felt a cold drop in his gut when her eyes met his own.

“We were interested in speaking with your father, if he is ever available to answer just a few questions.”

“My father is not around. Much. I do know there is a party here tonight. Lots of girls. Would you boys like an invite?” She teased.

“Yes.” Roach piped up.

Her smile was a bow over violin strings. It pulled out at the corners of her mouth and did not reach her pretty eyes. She moved the table lighter aside to reveal a stack of dark red cards beneath it. Each card displayed a hand drawn symbol in black ink. Roach would describe the symbol as three mountain peaks. Or a bird with its wings spread in flight.

“There's one each. Do you want me to leave you a few drinks behind the bar?”

“No, that will be everything we need to know. But here, please take our card.” Seaborne produced their company card from his wallet. Plain crisp white with just their names and the number for their car phone.

Stevie plucked it from him with her long, well kept fingers.

“If you ever need help. Any time, night or day, please don't hesitate to call us.”

She held the card to her chest tightly and looked down at the ashtray on the table.

“Don't worry, Mr Seaborne.” She stood and so did they. “My father keeps his gun in the house and I can lock my bedroom door from the inside. Now, I will ask you to leave. I want to go to my room and listen to music.”

“She's something else.” Roach puffed out a sigh. They left the property, passed the gates, back to their car.

“Yes. She really is.”

“She likes you.” Roach nodded as he ducked into the driver's seat.

“You think?” Seaborne sat beside him. He held the card invite in his hand. He turned it this way and that, the ink caught the light.

“What kind of girl wouldn't?”

Seaborne looked up.

“Lets go get coffee, Casanova.”


	6. Chapter 6

 

“Did you buy a sandwich at the diner? We were only there for a minute.”

  
  


“No.”

  
  


“Oh, God, is that the ear? Jesus, Sea, what are you doing?”

  
  


Seaborne had a plastic zip seal sandwich bag in his lap. The contents was watery yellow and in one corner the ear had melted. To the extent that the earring had worked its way out of the pierced lobe.

  
  


Roach closed his eyes against a vision of the thing warped and wriggling in the bottom of the bag like a creature dying in agony

  
  


“We can't full well just have left it in the napkin. I brought a bag from home. This is the best we can do, Roach.”

  
  


“You're a lot to deal with, you know. Just, don't let me see it again.”

  
  


The car pulled up several houses along the street from The Lodge. They did not want to become known as two clowns who hung around at questionable parties.

  
  


“How'd I look?”

  
  


Roach's eyes stopped on Seaborne as they walked to The Lodge. He looked as good as always.

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“How do you think I look?” Seaborne touched his hair. “I combed it over to the side. You think I look like someone who could fade into the crowd at one of these parties, now?”

  
  


Roach was lost for what to say. He looked down at his feet.

  
  


“Sea, I think you look just fine. But I don't think you could ever blend in. I can always spot you in the crowd.”

  
  


Cars and lights appeared when they approached The Lodge.

  
  


“Let's go.”

  
  


It did not take long for them to settle into the evening. For a while they stood around the bar. More men and women clung to each other's words in the reception area.

  
  


“Can I get you a drink this time, Sea?”

  
  


Slow jazz billowed from the stage. An upright bass was plucked and the drummer stroked his snare.

  
  


“You know I don't like to drink on the job.”

  
  


“Come on.” Roach tugged at his sleeve. “Relax. No one's paying us to be here. Have a drink with me.”

  
  


Seaborne leaned his elbow on the bar.

  
  


“Ok, Roach. I will let you buy me a drink.”

  
  


“I'm drinking scotch. Hope you like it 'cos you're having the same.”

  
  


One drink each turned to three. Then four. The party around them continued.

  
  


“I hope you know, I cannot drive. Not like this.”

  
  


“Well, we can just sleep in the car, buddy.”

  
  


They had fallen, somehow, into two deep leather armchairs. Side by side, their glasses hung in their hands. Their legs spread out and their knees touched in tipsy comfort.

  
  


“Hey, I'm a big man. The car can be pretty uncomfortable for me, you know.”

  
  


“I'll put the seats back.” Seaborne promised. “I care about you, big guy.” He let his hand rest on Roach's knee.

  
  


Roach laughed and felt his neck redden.

  
  


“Well, you care about the next paycheck.”

  
  


Seaborne's eyes sharpened.

  
  


“I care about more than that.”

  
  


“Oh, yeah?”

  
  


“Yes. I do.”

  
  


Seaborne had not taken his hand from Roach's knee. He had, in fact, let his palm skim up his thigh, not so that anyone on the room would notice. But Roach noticed. It burned him.

  
  


“Maybe I could make a bed in the back.”

  
  


The music played on.

  
  


“Maybe I'd like that.” Roach whispered.

  
  


And someone in the room said “Frank's here.”

  
  


The music stopped.

  
  


“I've brought some friends. I've brought some beer. Get the glasses out my man!”

  
  


A group wandered into the room in good spirits. A few younger men, one carried a crate of beer, chuckled and giggled as they wandered across the room. One man, much older and wider, in a brown leather jacket and a grey striped button up. He held his arm around a young woman Roach and Seaborne had never seen before. Blond. Pale. Black stone earrings shone in her two ears.

  
  


A few girls who were already seated in the red reception room stood from their seats and exited through a door to the left of the stage.

  
  


The barman, who had been a faceless figure until then, called to the group across the room.

  
  


“How the devil are you, man?”

  
  


“I'm fine, Frank, fine. How are you?” The barman's voice was low and soft. His teeth were falsely white and his eyebrows seemed penciled on.

  
  


“I'm good. I'm fucking good. Real fucking good.”

  
  


Seaborne and Roach closed their legs and sat up in their chairs. They faced away from the bar.

  
  


Frank leaned across the bar, his arm around his date, and whispered into the barman's ear.

  
  


“Hear today.” One of the younger men clicked a pocket knife in one of his friend's faces. “Gone tomorrow.” He clicked again and the knife withdrew, followed by laughter from the group.

  
  


“That don't scare me.” A gentleman in a brown hat said at the bar. He had curly grey hair. He slipped from the bar over to Seaborne. “I'm Paul, what's your name?”

  
  


“Seaborne.”

  
  


Paul clapped his hands once and wandered away to lean back against a wall by the seats.

  
  


“Where's the glasses? The beer's getting warm and if there's nothing I can't stand it's warm fucking beer, makes me puke!”

  
  


“Here they are, Frank.” The barman brought four glasses up from under the bar. “Here's your glasses.”

  
  


“Raymond where's the beer, man?”

  
  


“It's right here.” The young man who owned the switchblade lifted a bottle from the crate. He held it over the glasses. “You want me to pour it?”

  
  


“No, I want you to fuck it. Yes, pour the fucking beer.”

  
  


Frank looked to the barman in impatient distress.

  
  


“Go freshen up.” Frank took his arm from around his girl and she rushed to the door by the stage.

  
  


She looked back into the room, her eyes settled on Roach and she was gone. The door shut behind her.

  
  


Paul clapped his hands once again and he leaned over to Seaborne.

  
  


“I'm Paul.”

  
  


Seaborne nodded and kept his head down.

  
  


Frank and the barman shared quiet words.

  
  


Music started to drift from the stage once again.

  
  


Frank's body moved to the music. He stamped his feet in alternate steps. An impatient energy. A look of internal strife overcame him and he clenched his fists.

  
  


“Hey!” He called over the music. “Let's go downstairs!”

  
  


His friends laughed and picked up their glasses.

  
  


“Anyone wanna come downstairs with us? How 'bout you? Huh?” Frank pointed to one of the blond server girls who sat at a table with men. “You wanna come with us?”

  
  


She stood and walked slowly to the bar.

  
  


“Hey.” He took her painted face in his hand. “No smile for Frank? No? Ok, fuck it.”

  
  


“I'll see you Tuesday, Frank.” The barman murmured. He turned to hoist the beer crate behind the bar.

  
  


“Right then.”

  
  


The girl was taken by the arm by one of the younger men and Frank laughed loud.

  
  


And they vanished.

  
  


And the music played on.

  
  


Seaborne and Roach shared a knowing look.

  
  


“Not as many girls here tonight.” Roach said.

  
  


“Frank has them all downstairs.” Said Paul. The two of them had forgotten he was present.

  
  


“Excuse me?”

  
  


“Mr LeVay likes them separate from the bar. The girls are all downstairs.”

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

A short pale man in black clothing wandered through the crowd with a smile. His hands were clasped behind his back. He was unimposing, an ordinary dark haired old man except for his face. He was powdery pale. Roach would say unnaturally so.

  
  


He had purplish lips and the colour was echoed in the shade beneath his eyes. He approached Roach with ease.

  
  


“We've met before, haven't we.”

  
  


“I don't think so.” Roach put his drink down on the bar. “Where was it you think we met?”

  
  


“In your car, don't you remember?”

  
  


“No. No, I don't. Are you sure?”

  
  


Roach thought for a moment, he looked to the floor and then back up to the man's face. He did not want to appear rude and start any trouble. He was often picked out in a group because of his unusual height.

  
  


“Of course.” The man did not blink. “As a matter of fact, I'm there right now.”

  
  


“What do you mean? You're where right now?”

  
  


“In your car.”

  
  


Roach paused. Then he whispered.

  
  


“That's crazy, man.”

  
  


The man was not deterred. He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out his cell phone. He raised the antennae and opened the flip dial pad.

  
  


“Go ahead.” The man said. He passed over the phone. “Call me.”

  
  


If he were not so uncomfortable, Roach would have laughed. He took the phone from the man's hand.

  
  


“Go ahead.”

  
  


Roach shook his head and typed the car phone's number into the phone. He held it up when he was done, to gesture that he was, indeed, humouring the mystery man. He held it to his ear and heard the line ring. And then.

  
  


“I told you I was here.”

  
  


Roach's eyes flicked to the man in front of him. He held the phone away from his face.

  
  


“How'd you do that?”

  
  


“Ask me.” The unblinking man said.

  
  


Roach brought the phone back to his face.

  
  


“How'd you get inside my car?” He had become angry.

  
  


“You invited me.” Came the man at the party's voice through the phone. “It is not my custom to go where I am not wanted.”

  
  


“Who are you?”

  
  


“Hmhm.” Laughed the man at the party. And the man on the phone. They both laughed in tandem, brief and loud. His yellowed teeth showed through purplish lips in a grin that did not waver.

  
  


“Give me back my phone.” Came the voice through the receiver.

  
  


Roach dropped the phone away from his face and shut it. He passed it back and it was snatched by a pale hand.

  
  


“It's been a pleasure talking to you.”

  
  


Music played and the man turned, hands behind his back. He walked into the crowd and like that, he was gone.

  
  


“Roach.” Seaborne tugged at his sleeve from nowhere. “I think it's this way.”

  
  


Seaborne lead Roach to the hall.

  
  


Red curtains at the end of the corridor fluttered and the white armless marble lady had been moved aside.

  
  


Together they passed through the curtain. Behind which there was a door.

  
  


Down the red lit concrete stairs there was another doorway. Through the doorway was a small room filled with bodies that moved around on sofas and soft music played. A neon Open sign flickered on the wall.

  
  


Roach was flooded with immediate embarrassment. He picked a mark on one of the walls at which to stare while Seaborne stepped forward. Drawn in. Mesmerized.

  
  


What had captured him but the stare of a girl. She was stuffed into a low blocky sofa. A man, a body, moved above her, suffocated her and overwhelmed her. She looked a lot like Stevie. Blond hair and pale skin. Her eyes were glazed and she was thin and she had his hand over her mouth and her sightless eyes somehow called to him and pleaded with him and yet her body was relaxed and invited this man to touch her and move with her.

  
  


And as she turned her head to receive the man's bitten kisses upon her neck, Roach saw her left ear was not there. There was a dark red and black hole beneath her hair on one side.

  
  


Roach and Seaborne were frozen in the room with the smell of men and women. Half illuminated by dim red light.

  
  


The man above the girl turned to see what had caught her attention.

  
  


“The fuck you looking at?” Frank turned to reveal his white teeth and his black eyes.

  
  


Raymond sprang from the shadows to grip Seaborne from behind. He took one arm behind his back and held his knife to his collar.

  
  


“I think these two boys are here to party with us.”

  
  


Roach's hand almost grabbed Seaborne's coat to drag him away but before he made contact, he was ambushed by several others. The shadows came alive to deliver blows to his gut and his kidneys, his ribs and arms. Too tall to be punched in the face, Roach managed to stay upright. He was carried on a wave of fists and screams. Women fled, men joined them. Hands tugged and feet kicked up the stairs, down the hall, through the lobby and out the door.

  
  


He did not remember the walk from the door to the gate but when he turned on shaken feet to face The Lodge, he was alone.

  
  


“Sea?

  
  


The front gates were shut, they were so tall.

  
  


Roach was alone in the night.

 

 

 

 


	8. INTERMISSION

 

 

“You ever been married, Roach?”

 

The bright light that hung above them illuminated the little booth in the diner. Evening had drawn in and Seaborne's eyes were dark and intelligent as always. He just had a way about him that drove Roach to wonder.

 

“No, you?”

 

“No.”

 

Roach lifted his coffee cup to his lips.

 

“Ever been in love?”

 

Roach shook his head and placed the cup down.

 

“Had a few relationships. Never really stuck to just one woman. Found it hard.”

 

“What was hard about it?”

 

Roach shrugged. “Felt like I couldn't give them enough.”

 

“You think people like us could ever find someone to share our lives with?” Seaborne asked.

 

The windows were black, the sun had set. The bright diner was a train tunnel, an island.

 

“I think there's not much hope for anyone, no matter what job you do or where you live or what you believe in. But I know that if you can find something real, or something that feels true, you gotta fight. You gotta take it.”

 

“Take it?”

 

“Don't wait. There are chances, and they're few and far between but if you ever see a glimmer of hope, you gotta grab hold of it tight. Don't let go.”

 

“You almost sound smart sometimes, Roach. You know that?”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

Beaten and with a shiver, Roach staggered to the car.

  
  


He dove into the front seat, where he picked up the car phone and dialed for police help. As he awaited the automated response, his shaded eyes caught blond hair and long legs appear from the front gate.

  
  


He did not hesitate. Roach dropped the phone and went to the trunk, where he kept his Bersa Thunder. He had never used it, not on a person. The more he thought about it, the worse the images of what could be happening to Seaborne became.

  
  


Roach checked the safety, shoved the gun into the back of his pants, tugged down his jacket and approached the gate.

  
  


As he approached, he saw Stevie and another girl. The girl was upset, Stevie tucked the girl's hair behind her ear. They were close. Very close. Stevie calmed the crying girl with a kiss.

  
  


The girl left. Stevie shut the gate. She did not speak when she saw him.

  
  


“I need to get in.”

  
  


The dark bars were those of a prison to him.

  
  


“I can't let you in the house. My father is home.”

  
  


“Seaborne's in there. I gotta get in.”

  
  


“I shouldn't be talking to you.”

  
  


“Please.”

  
  


She stopped.

  
  


“You want me to let you in?” She teased.

  
  


“I already told you, please. At least go see if he's ok. Tell him to leave.”

  
  


“Oh, he won't come out. I'm sorry.”

  
  


“What? But, how do you know that?”

  
  


“My father doesn't let go so easily.” She sniffed and looked away.

  
  


Roach was afraid to touch her but he reached for Stevie's hand where it gripped one of the metal bars.

  
  


“Please.”

  
  


“You must care about him a lot. Most people who come here don't have anyone who cares about them. You know the party's over, right? I'll let you in but I have to go to my room.”

  
  


She opened the gate with a key card. She wrapped her arms around herself and let him in the door.

  
  


They stood together in the lobby.

  
  


“You know the way. I'm going to bed. Party's over. I'll be locking my door.”

  
  


She flashed him the piercing white of her eye and stepped off through the house.

  
  


There were no girls at the door to greet him. The house was quiet. He tread the red and black zigzag to the hallway. The curtains at the end of the hall seemed to billow and warp of their own accord. He could feel no breeze.

  
  


He took out this pistol from the back of his pants, under his green leather jacket. He held it down at his side in two hands as he stepped down the hall.

  
  


The marble woman loomed.

  
  


He walked down the red stairs. The space held a cold that he recognized from the dark as a child. He rounded the doorway with his gun at shoulder height into the room.

  
  


His arms shook.

  
  


The room was empty. A few orange lamps on side tables, their styles mimicked that of the marble lady. Her elegant form played out under the bulbs in solid stone. It was colder. All the seats were empty. The room still smelled of sex and cigarettes. Roach searched behind every chair, gun first.

  
  


And then, what he thought was an echo in the back of his mind from the night before, music. Music was in the air. Back the way he had come.

  
  


Back up the stairs, through the curtains, into the hall. He followed the sound.

  
  


The stage was empty, chairs were stacked upside down on tables. No light say for the sconces on the wall. But there, beside and black stage, to the left, the stage door.

  
  


He edged close, weapon ready. He checked behind himself and turned the brass doorknob. Inside was a dressing room. One large mirror above a table spread with makeup, hair brushes and ashtrays.

  
  


And there was a closet. A slatted closet door in the corner of the dressing room. He could hear music.

  
  


Roach lifted his shades up onto his head. He pressed his face to the slats and saw a space behind the closet. A large space, dark but real.

  
  


He took out his key ring flashlight. He slid the folding doors away and there, in the dressing rooms closet, a girl. A girl turned face down and asleep, her slim red dress pulled up around her hips. Her long blond hair messed and splayed out across the little chair where she had been bent over the arm. Her one ear was visible under the flashlight that spilled over her. A black stone earring. Her other ear was gone. It was her.

 

He opened the closet door, stepped into the room, around a side table laden with a little plastic bag and a mirror, a pocket knife and an empty bottle of beer. He heard a groan. He looked to his right and found Seaborne.

  
  


He was gagged with cloth stuffed in his mouth and his shirt has been ripped off of his body. His hands were tied in front of himself. He still had his pants but his shoes had been removed.

  
  


He looked as though he had been beaten. One eye purple and swollen, his lip burst and bleeding. Blood smeared his neck and face. His skin was hot pink and pale wax. Sweat dripped milky from his jaw.

  
  


“Sea.” Roach's voice broke. Seaborne did not respond or even open his eyes.

  
  


The girl screamed. Roach recognized her horror. She had woken up back into a nightmare.

  
  


He moved her off the arm of the chair to lay in the seat. She flinched and cowered at his touch. She continued to scream.

  
  


He saw her awake and sleep full eyes focus behind him.

  
  


Roach's shades shattered and clattered to the ground. A marble lady lamp fell to the floor beside him. He crawled on his knees and elbows. His head dripped blood on cold stone. He heard footsteps. Music.

  
  


A boot collided once and twice with Roach's gut and then his knees were trampled with the full weight of Mr Frank LeVay's boot from above.

  
  


“Fucking feds. Piece of shit cock suckers.” Frank's voice called over the screams of the girl.

  
  


Roach cried out. Tried to reach for the pistol he had dropped when he was bashed on the head.

  
  


Mr LeVay hefted up a heavy shard of the lamp with a bullish roar, Roach reached for his gun.

  
  


A single gunshot.

  
  


Roach flinched. Seaborne awoke. The girl in the chair continued to scream.

  
  


Mr LeVay dropped the lamp and stood solid on his feet. His shattered skull protruded through his hairline. He lurched and slammed down on top of Roach.

  
  


“Oh, God! Augh, get him off!”

  
  


Stevie put down her father's gun. The mirror and beer bottle on the table scattered to the floor. She was shaken but not so much that she could not help Roach roll her father off and away onto the basement floor.

  
  


Roach took a moment to stand and touched his head. He brought his hand down to see his own blood.

  
  


The girl in the chair quieted down into hand covered gasps and labored tears.

  
  


Roach watched Stevie crouch by her dead father. She did not move. She looked.

  
  


He turned away and smiled at Seaborne. Seaborne was still gagged and wiggled in his chair.

  
  


“Sorry, Sea.” Roach went to his knees and tugged out the gag. He took his cheek in his hand very gently, tilted his head and checked the damage. “That was an experience, huh?”

 

“Roach.”

  
  


Seaborne spat blood to the side. His eyes were wet and dilated. Roach untied his wrists and rubbed them to help blood flow back into cold fingers.

  
  


“You did so good.” He grabbed at the back of Roach's neck. His bloodied knuckles gripped his jacket collar so tight. His eyes were wild. “So good, Roach. I'm so proud of you.” He held Roach's face close to his own.

  
  


“Careful, Sea.”

  
  


Seaborne's hands smudged blood onto Roach's face. Roach's hand thread up in Seaborne's damp hair.

 

“I didn't know if.” Tears dripped down Seaborne's face.

  
  


“You didn't miss me too badly, did you?” Roach rasped.

Their lips stayed close. If Roach were a braver man, he would have leaned in to close the distance. But he was not. So he did not.

 

He just turned to look at Stevie and the girl in the chair.

 

And then Seaborne coughed and Roach steadied his shoulders.

  
  


Police cars had their lights on but they stood still out front of the house along with an ambulance.

 

The sun had risen and the early morning light felt mellow and welcome on Roach's skin.

  
  


Seaborne had his arm in a sling and Roach had a few stitches in his hairline. No sunglasses.

  
  


“Stevie's gonna be just fine, Sea.”

  
  


They watched Stevie be escorted to a vehicle in the driveway. She looked back at Seaborne and Roach.

  
  


“I know. That's the score with women like Stevie LeVay. She's been just fine her whole dang life. I have no doubt that she always will be.”

  
  


She stood by a black unmarked car. Men in suits held the door for her. She ducked inside and it drove away.

  
  


“That girl, the one with the ear.” Roach rounded on Seaborne just as they were out on the street. “She's been missing a few months from two towns over. They'll inform her family and let her go soon as they know she's medically stable. God knows what they were pumping her with. They're gonna transfer her to a hospital in her hometown. Officers said it's a little place on the county line. Out in the peaks. A mill town they said.”

  
  


Seaborne let his eyes meet Roach's. They both ducked into the car.

  
  


“Listen. That, back there.”

  
  


“No, it's ok, Sea. Forget it even happened. You were in shock, delirious and you thought you'd never see the light of day again. I totally understand.”

  
  


“Well.” Seaborne pressed his lips together. “I liked it.”

  
  


Roach gripped the steering wheel tight.

  
  


“I really liked it.”

  
  


“'S that so?”

  
  


“And I, I'd really like to maybe do that again sometime. Be close to you. Sometime when I'm not, you know, bruised and bloody. Would you, are you, would you like to do that, with me?”

  
  


“Sea.” Roach was frozen stiff. “Could I take you out sometime? Like, out to dinner. Just me and you?”

  
  


“I think I would very much like for you to take me out to dinner, Roach.”

  
  


Roach nodded and looked down into his own lap. He smiled.

 

“Sea, I.”

 

Roach was tugged by his collar. Seaborne was careful to keep his bad arm out of the way and their lips met soft and careful. Leant over the seat divide, Roach tucked his fingers into Seaborne's hair once again. It was soft and dry where the salt from his sweat had soaked in.

 

If they were not so sore and exhausted, Roach would have bundled Seaborne into the back seat and shown him just how much he cared.

 

“I better drive you home. You need some rest.”

  
  


“Well, you wanna, you wanna get a bite to eat first? Now?”

  
  


“What, like breakfast?”

  
  


“Mmh. Like, the both of us.”

  
  


“We can drive back to the city and eat in the parking lot by Sally's Diner.”

  
  


“Well.” Roach shifted. “No, I was thinking, maybe we could, eat in the Diner. Together. Just you and me. I'll get the bill.”

  
  


Seaborne's eyes sharpened on Roach.

  
  


“Yeah. You know what, I think I'd like it very much if you bought me breakfast and a cup of coffee. Just you and me.”

 

 


	10. Epilogue

 

Seaborne and Roach leant side by side against the passenger side door.

  
  


“It's a deer. I know it is.” Roach murmured.

  
  


“Well, there's only one good way to know for sure and we're being paid to find out. So don't fall asleep.”

  
  


Roach smirked.

  
  


“Don't worry about me, Sea. I'll be by later to pick you up.”

  
  


“It's not your wakefulness during our dinner that I'm worried about. It's our paycheck.”

  
  


Roach reached out and smoothed a wrinkle from Seaborne's lapel.

  
  


“Whatever you say, Sea.”

  
  


Seaborne shook his head as he straightened up into Roach's space.

  
  


“Maybe keep the radio on a little louder tonight. Might help keep you alert.”

  
  


“Might.”

  
  


“I'm going now. If nothing else, think of something interesting to tell me over dinner.”

  
  


“How about something sexy and exciting?” Roach gripped Seaborne's coat and drew him close to his body. He placed a kiss at the side of Seaborne's mouth.

  
  


“How about you keep your eyes on the job and I'll see you later?”

  
  


Seaborne wrapped his coat around himself as he walked off into the evening.

  
  


Roach turned on the radio. Something smooth and inviting played out and into his ears. He watched the flower bed across the road. Mr Cooper had been stripped of his begonias and wanted to know who or what was stealing them away.

  
  


Roach let his head rest against the driver's window. Before his eyes drooped and closed, he double checked the lock.

  
  


 


End file.
